


The Name of the Game

by Sinnykins



Series: Guardiancest AU [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Desperation, Drinking Games, Guardiancest, Humiliation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omorashi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Play, Shower Sex, Wetting, bathroom denial, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinnykins/pseuds/Sinnykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider is at the top of the world, top of the food chain, top of the fucking social pyramid. When you shit out blockbuster films at the rate he does, no one tells you what you can and can't do as long as you keep lining their pockets. But it's all really just a game to him, just an exploration of how far he can push things before the world realizes he's been laughing at them all this time...or until he meets the one person who knows exactly what he's playing at. (Nsfw in the second chapter only!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally back after all this time, and with my longest piece of writing yet...fskldjflsdkj this took ages and I'm not even sure how well it flows together or anything but I'm extremely excited to share it. u//w//u part of the reason I wrote it is because people have been so interested in guardiancest, but it mostly stemmed from my desire to write one of my guiltiest kinks, and the one I feel most embarrassed about writing about. I did my best to make it as appealing as I could, even to people that don't normally like that sort of thing, so please give it a try! The first chapter cuts off before anything happens, so you can decide if you're interested in reading that stuff or not. Also, I couldn't figure out how to work their relation in and keep the dynamic that I was aiming for, so I really apologize for that! But I hope that you all enjoy ;u;

Maybe Dave Strider was just bored as fuck.

 

Maybe he was trying to push the line, attempting to find the limit of what the public would take before they could no longer swallow the horseshit he tried to pass for art. Maybe he was looking for how far he had to go before they came to the realization that he was trolling them all for cheap laughs.

 

Well, to be fair the movies weren’t really cheap. Even if he didn’t use the most extravagant budgets in the business, they still cost a few million to throw together…

 

…and gave returns a couple hundred times the startup cost.

 

Regardless of his reason, it had been kind of spur-of-the-moment. One too many drinks and a night alone in a penthouse big enough to comfortably house ten of him meant an evening with his computer, and what started out as an honest hunt for decent porn (hey, even movie stars got boring after a while) became a journey to find the most depraved of sites lurking in the darkest corners of the net. That’s how he came across it: the weirdest online porn site he’d ever laid eyes upon, and yet something about the concept had intrigued him. The fact that it was so utterly peculiar seemed to strike a chord within him, resonate deep down somewhere in the part of him that was laid bare by a couple drinks too many, and in the dim silence of his room with nothing more than the glow of his laptop screen to pass judgment on his intoxicated fascination, he made a decision.

 

Dave whipped out his cell phone and called up the owner of Plush Rump at no earlier than two in the morning to offer him a movie deal.

 

 

* * *

 

Less than three days later the two of them were seated across from one another, separated by a mahogany desk worth more than most individuals made in a year. He went by “Bro” and he drank black coffee, wore pointy shades against Dave’s rounded ones, and a simple cap over his heavily styled blond hair. Dave wore a suit and Bro wore a polo shirt, and neither of them had much in the way of decent posture.

 

There was a noticeable spark of electricity before they even got to the hand shaking. Dave was sure everyone else in the office could feel it, although he couldn’t tell if the visible discomfort on the faces of his partners was from the strange tension building between him and his client, or if it was from minor concern for his latest artistic endeavor. He wasn’t sure why they should be concerned this time; after all the increasingly horrific nonsense he’d tried to parade before them as inspired, modern masterpieces had ended up just as successful as he’d promised, his benefactors shouldn’t have had a reason to doubt him.

 

But maybe he was trying to make them question him.

 

Maybe all Dave Strider wanted was a challenge.

 

They shook hands and the scrape of fingerless leather gloves against his palm resonated across his nerves long after this Bro character released him. Although both of them had hidden eyes Dave knew for a fact that their gazes were locked, that something unspoken was running back and forth between them and he felt a strange tug in his chest. He settled in his chair and kept his expression flat, his hands steepled atop his desk as he tried to ignore the lingering sensation.

 

“I’ve heard that your business is pretty damn profitable considering the whole niche market deal.” Dave began casually, his eyebrows raising over the tops of his shades to express a mild sense of curiosity. He leaned forward just a little, enough to make his expensive silk tie hang before him like an offer…like a taunt. “Mind filling me in on how the hell you’re popularizing such weird shit?”

 

There was no reaction in Bro’s face, not the slightest twitch, and Dave couldn’t follow the path of his eyes with the tinted lenses obscuring their movement. The man was slouched back in his chair, plenty comfortable in the luxurious surroundings despite his modest clothes, and the equally modest vehicle he’d driven himself in. It seemed he wasn’t particularly interested in some of the more traditional uses of overabundant funds, and Dave figured that was part of what drew him in so easily; Bro didn’t need the fancy getup, he had an air about him that told you he was important, an attitude that could make anything he put on that lean, muscular body look like a class act piece of tailored magnificence.

 

He looked right at home in that office, in that plush chair – much more than many of the bleak-faced men sitting around awaiting the deal they’d strike.

 

“You do enough of it yourself, don’t you? You even go so far as to consider yourself a pro, if I’m not completely off the mark here.”

 

A slow smirk began to tug at the very corner of Dave’s lips, and he gave a low chuckle as he leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head, his posture mirroring the ease and casual nature of Bro’s. In that moment he felt like the two of them were the only ones in that room, and that they had made a significant connection on a deeper level…a connection born from being similar creatures, something that didn’t require any significant length of time to form.

 

“Ding ding ding, got ourselves a winner here. Right you are; as far as promoting all things bizarre and socially uncomfortable goes I’m pretty much undefeated, although I have to say you must have some fucking heavy balls to decide the world should be bestowed with puppet rumps at a mouse-click. I admire your entrepreneurship – anyone capable of convincing a percentage of the masses to fork over enough money to give you a livelihood taking provocative photographs and video footage of felt deserves a round of applause.” At that moment Dave glanced over at the small crowd of people who had been gathered in his office: the representatives of the stock holders that tried to act like they had a say in his pet projects, but were too terrified of losing their investments to actually get in his way.

 

When none of them immediately got his silent request, he cleared his throat and tilted his head so he could look down his nose at them, and although he never revealed his oddly colored eyes to the group, the gesture still seemed to hold a similar effect. They hesitantly and half-heartedly began to clap, the sound brief and hardly inspiring, but it satisfied his whim well enough that he returned to ignoring their presence.

 

“I like what you do, so why don’t you do it for me?”

 

Bro hadn’t changed his posture the entire time, and even now he looked like some kind of perfectly chiseled statue…something with fluid lines and such natural form, but still as stone. It was impossible to read him, even for Dave, who had been known as a rather closed book to most of his peers. But unlike his accomplices, that fact didn’t deter him or make him nervous – rather he found the realization almost thrilling. This was something new, something that took effort and struggle and had a sense of the unknown to it…a sense of discovery. His eyes scanned Bro’s features hungrily, searching for any clues and applying every ounce of experience he’d ever had involving dealing with people to try and decipher the lack of expression written on that handsome face.

 

The man seemed to welcome the attempt, and the silence stretched on a little longer than was necessary, increasing the tension present in the room by a couple notches.

 

“I think that would all depend on what exactly you had in mind.”

 

 

* * *

 

Details had a tendency to fill themselves in after Dave had set his mind to creating something new to terrorize the theaters with. After the basic outline was painstakingly constructed from his toolbox of irony and a naturally eccentric nature, everything else fell into place with ease. Dave wrote his own script and Bro became his partner, and through the combination of their efforts the monstrosity of the thing they had created was unparalleled. It took months of late nights and impromptu meetings at coffee shops, of four a.m. phone calls and energy drinks by the dozens.

 

Together they created a difficult to follow and highly convoluted story about Sweet Bro having a really bad trip and coming to the conclusion that he’d been transported to a world made entirely of plush velour. It borrowed enough from the Alice in Wonderland motif to warrant countless head shaker references, but not so much as to cause any sort of copyright infringement trouble. It allowed them to use plenty of jpeg artifact backdrops and flashing neon colors and weird ass deformed looking mounds of fabric and fluff and still maintain a general theme.

 

Originally Dave hadn’t meant to involve Bro much past the creation and manipulation of the puppets themselves, but that sneaky bastard had offered up a few of his opinions and expressed an interest in being involved with the scripting process. It had been so very subtle, the way he had worked himself in, and before Dave knew it they were writing together, almost equal in their contributions.

 

But they worked together so perfectly that he could hardly complain about the circumstances.

 

Bro had a sort of wit about him, a keenness and a depth of perception that made his observations far-reaching and encompassing. He had a way of stringing things together with such artistry, each choice necessary to the construction of his idea, and yet shrouding the meaning behind difficult to decipher riddles. His sense of humor was mean without being nasty and he had a flair for mind games, but as far as Dave could tell the guy really loved his puppets unironically.

 

And yet that was all he knew about Bro, even after months of working together. The guy liked secrecy and was a master at turning the topic of conversation away from himself. All Dave had learned during their collaboration was that Bro was a little bit older than him, didn’t care for sweet things, and managed to look just as refined eating a box of takeout at Dave’s coffee table while they slaved over their manuscript as he did slicing off chunks of bacon wrapped filet mignon in overly expensive French restaurants. Maybe refined wasn’t even the right word, but he just maintained that air of importance no matter what he did or where he went and he didn’t seem to discriminate when it came to food, clothing, housing, or transportation. Anything that got the job done was good enough for Bro.

 

He’d also learned that they worked excellently together; with Bro’s additions, his usual story writing flowed smoother. It was still a pile of steaming bullshit, still entirely pointless, random, nonsensical, but neatly knitted together and with a subtle underlying current that dragged the audience along through a Technicolor nightmare. Bro tempered his blatant mockery of their viewers with something more underhanded and cunning until it reached a perfect balance of straight forwardness and back handedness.

 

When they had reached the conclusion of the story, when the final scene had been wrapped up and their last wisecrack had been made, when they had tied it all together neatly into some vague and unsatisfying ending laced with enough carefully hidden kernels to satisfy anyone with a hunger for media analysis…when Dave typed “end” with a flourish…for once in his life he had felt that he’d really and truly made an outstanding accomplishment. He had never cared for throwing parties at each stage of the production process, even if he had a tendency to do most of the work himself. Sure he was proud of his creations…but when he celebrated it seemed unnecessary, just another opportunity to stroke his ego and throw his fortune around.

 

This, though…there was something about it that made it feel monumental. Dave had obtained something in the process of writing the script alone, something that would have made all those months worthwhile regardless of whether or not the end product was a success. It was a thing that held honest meaning and marked work he truly cared for and he wanted to hold on to that sense of triumph.

 

He invited Bro out for a drink, and although they had been writing for upwards of twelve hours in a mad race to the finish line, he felt entirely invigorated.

 

They took Dave’s fanciest car to the most exclusive watering hole in the city, where the patrons were just as plastered across billboards and magazine covers and therefore didn’t care so much about other famous individuals. No one asked who Bro was, although he looked quite underdressed in comparison to glitzy dresses and designer jackets. Somehow he managed to fit in as if he’d been raised in this sort of environment…or maybe like he’d just been made for it. It was in his stride as his long legs carried him across the floor, the cocky tilt of his head and the way he didn’t even bother removing his shades in the dim light of the bar. When they sat together on stools, he made himself comfortable without the slightest hint of tension or unease along the broad, well-worked muscles of his shoulders.

 

Dave himself had opted for one of his exquisitely tailored and handmade suits, all slick black with the vaguest undertone of dark gray pinstripe if you bothered to get in close enough. His getup also included ultra shined shoes, a pristine white dress shirt, and a tie the color of blood upon which faint stitches etched out an intricate gear pattern. Everything about him was immaculate and well-kept and when combined with his current air of accomplishment, he could have convinced anyone that he owned the whole world that night.

 

When he looked at Bro sitting beside him on a plush velvet covered stool, shades hiding the direction of his gaze but so clearly staring at him, all those months of tension seemed to strike him in an instant. Encounter upon encounter with that electricity constantly buzzing between them, those little deliberate touches Bro chose to bestow upon him at every carefully calculated opportunity…the moments when things just _clicked_ and it was so delicious to share that epiphany with another human being, with someone that could be considered his equal. Every ounce of attraction and desire he’d felt for Bro hit him over the head, nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs, and there was something about the adrenaline rush from their finished project that made him want to be reckless and wild and just _take_ what he craved.

 

Then the bartender approached them and asked what they would like to drink.

 

Before he could breath out his order in a tone that would most likely be entirely inappropriate, Bro spoke up and ordered them both beers. It was hardly what Dave liked to drink, although he supposed he was grateful for the chance to regain his composure…his body was still buzzing with the excitement of his brief consideration.

 

“I always took you for the hard liquor kind of man – the ‘if it doesn’t knock a normal sucker on his ass it ain’t worth my time’.” Dave inquired once he was sure he could keep his tone flat.

 

“Why is it that you insisted on holding this celebration without any other attendees?” Bro didn’t miss a beat, didn’t falter or hesitate or even act like he’d heard Dave’s question at all. He merely stared him down with the slightest upward quirk of his mouth, an expression that told Dave he already knew the answer to his question. Why he felt the need to hear it said was beyond him, but Dave humored him nonetheless.

 

“Isn’t that obvious? It’s our victory, man…our private party, VIPs only and sorry guys but our criteria for very important was pretty damn strict. No one else made the cut. Sorry to disappoint your highly social nature with a lack of potential victims for your textbook party tricks but I’m intent on keeping this soiree a top notch class act.” A lot of words to say nothing, spouted out for the purpose of hiding the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to actually explain his reasoning.

 

The fact of the matter was that no one else would understand the point of the celebration. No one else would know the sheer weight of what they had accomplished, no one else would appreciate it nearly as much…but there was no need for him to explicitly state that, anyway, because Bro already understood. There was so much that man could read about him, and sometimes it was kind of frightening.

 

Maybe that’s why Bro mysteriously allowed the topic to fade as their beers were placed before them, bottle caps removed and smoky water vapor bubbling out of the mouth. It was some special reserves nonsense from a fancy microbrewery, but still probably way overpriced for what Dave estimated it would taste like. Bro slid his large hand around the neck of the bottle, the leather of his fingerless gloves smearing condensation, and his bare fingertips resting attractively on the tinted glass. It fit so snugly there in the curve between his thumb and forefinger, like it was made to be held by him, and Dave’s throat felt a little dry as his eyes lingered.

 

“I thought we’d have a drinking contest. Make your little celebration party a little more interesting.”

 

That asshole must have been aware that Dave was watching his hand. He began to lazily spin the bottle in his grip, the wide pads of his thumb and fingers maneuvering it expertly in tight circles, the digits working together in such a fluid motion that it was oddly mesmerizing. But he wasn’t about to be so blatantly caught in the act, and he shot back a quip before his silence could give him away.

 

“Haha, what kind of joke is this? Do you seriously expect us to have a decent contest with this piss water, pansy ass excuse for an alcoholic beverage? You know how many of these puppies I’d have to knock back to get the vague beginnings of a minor buzzing sensation somewhere far beyond the reaches of my physical perception? Enough for an entire pack, that’s how many – we’d be so far past omega tier that we’d have to switch languages to come up with a new title for all the excess beer bottles gathering under my command. Let’s ditch this kiddie pool competition and put on our big boy swim trunks, alright? Bring out your big guns.”

 

Somewhere along the line Dave could have sworn that he saw Bro’s lips twitch into a very subtle smirk at his little nickname for the beverage, although it was the kind of expression that was born and faded faster than a memory came and left a goldfish’s tiny brain. Although Dave had made a move to catch the bartender’s attention and get them something harder, his companion caught his wrist with his free hand, his grip on his bottle never changing…and he slowly guided Dave’s palm to the icy surface of his own beverage container.

 

“If we were doing this based on our level of intoxication, I would have to consume more than half of this establishment’s stock. I would get alcohol poisoning before I even felt remotely drunk, and that would hardly make for an interesting competition. Seeing as you think so lowly of my choice of weapon, I feel it would be far more entertaining to see how many of them you can finish before you grow sick of their ‘piss water’ flavor. Does that sound like a more appropriate challenge, or are you too fucking prissy to touch this commoner’s mead?” There was something in his voice, something past the competitive, challenging, and ever so cocky edge that tugged at the back of Dave’s conscious, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay it much attention at the moment.

 

All he could think about was the sensation that had bolted across his skin, lifting hairs and prickling along his nerves like a wave of electricity at the touch of warm, worn leather on his bare wrist. The skin of Bro’s fingertips were a little roughened by calluses and the way they scraped the delicate, unmarred flesh of Dave’s arm kept the tingling echoing through his body long after the hand in question fell away.

 

Everything Bro did was deliberate; every movement, every muscle twitch, every barely noticeable expression and every word he said was always plotted out. Even to the untrained eye, the level of control he had over himself was extraordinary.

 

This was Bro’s game, and Dave was definitely in the mood to play.

 

“Pretty unconventional drinking contest if you ask me, but then again you’re all about that off the wall tom-foolery, aren’t you? Probably should’ve expected something crazy as fuck like this, I’m actually kinda disappointed I didn’t catch it myself. I guess all nighters do catch up with you eventually…bummer. But if you wanna dance, babe, then let’s dance.” He curled his hand around the smooth, chilled glass, felt it hard and refusing to give in his grip and imagined it was warm and pulsing beneath his touch instead. Then Dave raised it in a toast, although he had lost track of whether or not the gesture was ironic. “To freaky assholes and the weird shit they get done. To the weird shit _we_ got done.”

 

They knocked it back together, their eyes locked beneath the shield of their respective shades, another competition taking place under the guise of their physical one. The mental part of their battle raged in full force as Dave downed mouthful after mouthful of cold beer without pausing to taste his beverage – he was focused on the way that Bro matched each draught, each swallow, his eyes following the progression of his bobbing adam’s apple and felt the mirroring rush of cold down his own throat. Both of them refused to back down until the last of their bottle’s contents had been swallowed, and the simultaneous clink of the empty flasks on the counter sent a ripple of excitement through Dave’s body.

 

Both of them were competing. Both of them were matching the other. Both of them were _equals_.

 

As he fought to catch his breath as discreetly as possible, to maintain a similarly composed image as the man beside him, Bro caught the attention of their barkeep and requested another round. The drinks were soon delivered to them, uncapped and smoking invitingly…freezing to the touch, but they did nothing to calm the fire brewing within Dave’s veins as he watched Bro raise his beer.

 

“I hope you were just getting warmed up, kiddo. That round was laughable – let’s speed things up a little, shall we?”

 

Without waiting for a reply, Bro began to drink, and Dave rushed to meet the challenge. Of course he wouldn’t back down, and if Bro wanted to take it up a notch he was more than happy to comply. He gulped the beverage down easily, ignored the taste and the way it chilled him from the inside, the way twenty-four ounces began to feel a little heavy in his stomach. All of that could be ignored for the sake of tapping that bottle down against the counter at the same time, for the sake of the adrenaline that drowned out everything else and goaded him on.

 

“Is that a little more befitting of your style?” Despite himself, Dave could feel the thrill beginning to show on his face…they were just little breaks in his mask, tiny twitches of muscle, but they spoke volumes about his excitement. For once he didn’t feel as concerned about maintaining a look of indifference, if only because Bro would have known how he was feeling anyway. It wasn’t as easy for Dave to detect the signs in his companion, but he was well aware that the larger man thrived on competition, just as he himself did.

 

“You’re getting closer, but still on the slow side. I thought you wanted out of the kiddie pool? You won’t even get those floaties off until you start showing me your big boy moves.” This time Bro was smirking, out and out smirking as he stared Dave down…those eyes didn’t leave him once as he signaled for a third round of beers.

 

The only buzz he was getting right now was hormonal but he felt himself teetering on the edge of his inhibitions, as the graceful curving line of Bro’s lips lurking at the edge of his peripheral vision became overwhelmingly enticing. They would taste strongly of beer, of weak alcohol mingled with that flavor that would be purely Bro, his lips just a little larger, a little dry, a little rough—

 

Two more bottles were set before them, but Bro made no move to raise his own. He just kept watching Dave and smirking like he was _waiting_ for him to break down and give in. Waiting for him to make the move because it was his turn in this game they were playing, a game with a goal Dave could not discern and rules he didn’t know – it was a game far beyond what they were claiming to be playing right now, with far greater meaning to both of them than “who could down the most beers in one sitting”. So he experimentally raised his bottle, and found himself oddly pleased when Bro mimicked the movement to a T; same pace, same pause, same pursing of lips…

 

“You asked for it man, I’m about to lay down the law like a certified beer bonging special forces officer crashing a prepubescent kid’s unauthorized party in the ‘mommy’s had a hard day’ cabinet. I’ll pack this shit away so fast I’ll put Fedex express shipping to shame. Just don’t come crying to me when you got a tummyache; I don’t offer lost package insurance.” The words were part of it of course…part of the mind games and of pumping himself up, of narrowing his focus to prevent the inevitable physical discomfort from deterring him.

 

Dave didn’t let himself think of the consequences, he just threw his head back and swallowed each freezing mouthful down as fast as his throat muscles would allow. His eyes threatened to close but he kept them locked, however slitted they became, on Bro’s form to make sure that he was doing the same. Sure enough they were drinking in unison, although it didn’t seem that Bro was having any difficulty in matching his pace and he struggled to go faster, to force himself to his limits and even further. Dave was determined to pit his best efforts against Bro and find out just where he stood in comparison.

 

When he slammed the empty bottle down against the polished surface of the bar, he felt no concern for the fact that he could have potentially showered himself in glass shards. It made quite a noise and several of the patrons peered over with expressions of distaste, but upon determining that there was nothing of interest to pay attention to, went back to their own business. Dave’s breathing was a little uneven as he fought to refill his oxygen stores; he’d been so determined to drink the beer as fast as he could that he had forgone much in the way of breathing. Bro, however, didn’t appear to be very out of breath – he just smirked, but there was something approving in his expression that got Dave smiling right back at him. This time he was the one to call the bartender for another round, and he was already beginning to lift it to his lips when Bro spoke up.

 

“You’re right, this shit is pretty much just piss water. I think I’ve had my fill, but I’ll tell you what; finish that last bottle and victory’s yours fair and square. A grand total of four beers in less than twenty minutes…I’d say that’s pretty fucking respectable right there.” Bro rested an elbow on the counter and leaned leisurely to one side, as if preparing to enjoy a rather interesting display. He held his fourth beer in his hand but made no move to drink it, just rubbed his thumb over the surface in lazy circles.

 

“Giving up already? All talk and no walk man, lotta bark and negative bite going on here. Guess I’m pretty used to this pansy ass level of competitive skill though, but for your effort I’ll reward you and show you how it’s really done.” Some part of him was disappointed that it was over so quickly, and that Bro had let him win with such ease. Some part of him wondered, briefly, if he had misjudged Bro, but something about the smirk still drawn across his features vanquished his doubt and reassured him that they were most definitely continuing their game. With that in mind he began to drink again, although his pace lacked the previous urgency and fierce air of competition. Even with the alcohol seeping into his bloodstream, the excitement of the challenge was wearing off fast and in its place the cramping fullness of his stomach was rapidly becoming more evident.

 

“Really? You aren’t showing me crap. Just because you’re in the homestretch doesn’t mean you can slack off. If you want to showcase your skills for me you better get your game right the fuck back up because this is a pretty laughable attempt.” Bro made a gesture with one hand, a lazy little flick of his fingers that Dave knew was meant to aggravate him; it was working. “Faster.”

 

It was an out and out command and Dave Strider did not follow orders. Yet for some completely inexplicable reason he began to chug it again, determination overriding his natural stubbornness – the desire to prove himself seemed to have far more pull than his pride and physical comfort at the moment, although that could have been influenced by the three beers swimming in his system. Bro shifted forward, and perhaps it was the play of light across his face but for a very brief moment he looked positively wicked. Nothing about his expression changed but that tension seemed to flex and writhe and lurch between them, and manifested itself in the vague tautness stretching the muscles of Bro’s shoulders.

 

“Come on, Dave, _faster_.” His tone had lowered into something rich and inviting and felt so laced with vulgar suggestion that a shiver ran down the length of Dave’s spine and coiled somewhere around his tailbone, creating a lingering tingling sensation. But each mouthful was a struggle now, with no amount of adrenaline being enough to hide the way the liquid stretched his stomach out taut within his abdomen, the way it sloshed about inside of him as more drink was added to the soupy mixture. His body wanted to revolt against his actions and the act of swallowing made him feel nauseous.

 

Just as he felt his dedication to the act waning, Bro’s fingertips were on the base of the bottle, and he was wordlessly tilting it up at a sharper angle and forcing it to flow faster into his mouth. Dave’s eyes slid shut behind his shades as he fought to keep up with the pace his companion had forced upon him, even as the angle continued to decrease. With his head practically tilted back he couldn’t prevent some of it from escaping past the seal of his lips, running down his chin and dripping onto his clothes. He should have just snatched the bottle away from Bro and refused to play like this, but it kept that tingling along the base of his spine present and he found it oddly enjoyable. That is, until he stumbled in the rhythm of his swallowing and choked on a mouthful, coughing and spluttering and getting the liquid all over himself – definitely not the poise he prided himself in maintaining in public.

 

But Bro showed enough mercy to remove the bottle from his lips as he rubbed his mouth with the expensive cuff of his sleeve, his intoxication level breeding a disregard for his fancy attire. All of the coughing threatened to upset the contents of his stomach and he felt it roil uncomfortably about in the overstretched confines, but with his hand resting discreetly over the affected area he was able to calm it back down and prevent his dignity from being further tarnished.

 

As he caught his breath he focused his gaze back on Bro’s face and found it mostly unreadable. There was still a mild half-smile afflicting the usual straight line of his mouth, but otherwise he was unable to discern whether the guy was finding this humorous or…something else. The buzz that threatened to drown out the rest of his senses obviously didn’t help…it slowed his thought processes and made his head feel a little fuzzy, but it had spread the tingling sensation further throughout his body. Even if Bro wasn’t amused by the situation, he found it to be rather laughable, though his chuckling was cut short when the bouncing of his diaphragm nearly upset his stomach again.

 

One of those gloved hands came down hard on his shoulder and made his gut lurch uncomfortably, but he merely shot Bro a sloppy smile in reply, if only to keep himself from wincing. “Easy as fucking…fucking pie or some shit, I don’t know. You can bet I’m gonna cash in on my bragging rights big time man…like in the god damn credits of our film. ‘Dedicated to the fact that big ol’ Bro couldn’t hold his beer better than Dave motherfucking Strider’, bitch.”

 

Dave made a playful jab at Bro with his fist, but the larger man caught it easily in his palm…and his grip lingered longer than expected. When Dave raised an eyebrow and tried to pull his hand back, Bro didn’t stop him, but allowed his fingers to caress his exposed skin as it slid out from under his hold.

 

“You’re awfully cocky, aren’t you? But of course, you won.” Something in his tone made it seem like he was enjoying an inside joke at Dave’s expense, teasing him with a bit of information he was not yet in possession of. It was frustrating and he nearly began to demand that Bro reveal to him whatever this secret was, but his train of thought was abruptly knocked from its tracks as the barkeeper came by to ask if they needed anything else, and to clear away the empty bottles when they declined.

 

Bro didn’t allow him to try and reclaim that thought; he began to talk immediately after they were alone again, which in and of itself was a little surprising because the guy wasn’t one for small talk. It caught Dave off-guard, and in his surprise he found himself naturally going along with the flow of discussion. The sly bastard just had to pick a topic of interest to him – he was asking all sorts of questions about how the construction of the film would progress now that they had completed the script. Of course Dave couldn’t help but go on about his passion…regardless of the fact that he used his position to see how much fun he could have with his audiences before they got sick of his shit, he loved what he did with the ferocity of any man who had found his calling in life.

 

So he went through the entirety of the process, explaining for Bro in excessive detail which channels the script would go through, then the preparation of the funds, the striking of contracts with actors and the other necessary staff members, the creation of settings and props and outfits…it would take quite a while for everything to be completed, but he expected Bro to remain by his side through most of it. His companion was only to be responsible for most of the puppet work, but somewhere along the lines he had become a valuable addition to the entire project…and maybe Dave let that slip out into the conversation more than he would have liked to admit, all under the influence of his intoxication.

 

His inebriation was completely obvious, however; even when talking about one of his favorite subjects, there were instances where he would stumble over his words, stall in mid-sentence, or forget portions of the process and skip back to add them in when he remembered. It didn’t seem to bother Bro, as he merely listened, rapt but with that ever present casual air about him…sometimes he would prompt Dave or guide him back on track, but otherwise he didn’t say much.

 

And the longer Dave went on, the more aware he became of an increasingly pressing problem.

 

At first he couldn’t even tell the difference between the pressures in his abdomen. His stomach was still painfully full and he was doing his best to minimize his movement, as the sensation of fluids sloshing around was not entirely pleasant. But gradually the pressures began to shift, and the fullness moved lower in his body. This tension was a whole different beast, and though it could be successfully ignored for a while, it didn’t take long before it became more urgent.

 

When finally the discomfort began to demand too much of his attention for him to properly keep his focus on the “lecture” he was giving, he carefully maneuvered himself to his feet and addressed Bro with the slightest bit of strain to his voice. “Hey look let’s put this sick lesson of movie making magic on hold alright? I have a pretty important impromptu meeting with an old friend that just can’t wait – gimme two minutes to set things straight and then you can continue to pick the infamous Strider noggin as much as you please.”

 

Standing up made the problem much more noticeable, as gravity tried its damndest to pull on the weight stretching his bladder taught, and he shoved his hands into his pockets in a vague attempt to keep himself from bouncing between his feet. But to his surprise, Bro got up as well, his still full fourth beer cradled in his hand like some kind of high class accessory he wouldn’t dare to leave behind. It suited his image plenty, that was for sure.

 

“It’s cool, now that you mention it I think the beer is getting to me too.” And with that he began to walk to the bathroom, not showing any signs of the tipsiness Dave was afflicted by. The superstar briefly made a face, something childish and unbefitting of his image, but no one was paying attention to another drunk celebrity.

 

When he followed Bro along his stride wasn’t quite as smooth as when he was sober, but he didn’t have any difficulty maneuvering himself. Each step seemed to send a resounding reminder of his predicament through his body and he had to wonder why the hell he had put it off so long in the first place. He almost let out a sigh of relief as he let himself into the bathroom behind Bro, his hands already flicking open his belt without much in the way of shame. But before he could place himself before one of the pristine urinals, long, strong fingers curled around his bicep and hauled him off course. In his current state he stumbled and didn’t have time to right himself and prevent this unexpected change of plans.

 

No, he abruptly found himself slammed against the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, the sliding of the door’s lock into place eerily loud in the silence of the otherwise empty restroom. Bro was holding him by his shoulders, pinning him with his large form against the cold tile wall of the furthest little cubicle. Even through the fabric of his jacket and dress shirt he could feel the chill beginning to seep in, and he swallowed hard as his own hands automatically moved to grip Bro’s forearms.

 

“Um woah, what the hell dude? I thought we came in here to piss, and mother nature’s not really keen on being stood up so I’d really appreciate it if we stuck with the plan.” It was around this time that Dave became extremely aware of their size difference. A couple inches suddenly became a mile, or at least was as good as such when Bro could use them to his advantage and loom over him. His form blocked out the majority of the fluorescent lights above each stall, and he was close enough that Dave could smell the alcohol on his breath.

 

“Who’s stopping you, kiddo?” He chuckled lowly, and it sounded awfully mocking in their current situation. Dave took that moment to squirm, to test the grip on him, but Bro wasn’t letting him go anywhere and all the movement was really detrimental on the muscles currently holding closed the floodgates. There wasn’t even much room for all the liquid to move about – it just caused a shifting of the pressure, which in turn made the issue more pronounced. Dave gave a soft, frustrated groan and ceased his struggling.

 

“Let’s see…it couldn’t possibly be the huge asshole pinning me up against a wall like less than two feet from my relief, could it? Nah, no way, too easy. Must be the big man himself, out to get me cuz he didn’t like the ending of my last film. Divine revenge in the form of bathroom denial, pretty cruel shit right here.” It was hissed through ground teeth, the dry tone of his voice laced with his strain. The fact that there was a toilet right there off to the side seemed to crank his desperation meter up big time and he couldn’t quite stop himself from giving Bro another hard shove. It didn’t do anything, of course.

 

“Last time I checked, it isn’t the standing over a bowl part that lets you go. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one stopping you right now.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Maybe you got some shit loose up there because there is no way in any iteration of hell that I am going to piss my god damned pants when there’s a perfectly good crapper begging me for a golden shower _right the fuck over there_.” He made a forceful jabbing motion with his thumb in the direction of the toilet, his lips pulled into a strained scowl as he fought the urge to press his thighs together and wiggle around. Bro wanted him to make a complete fool of himself, but there was no way he was going to let himself be lowered to that level so easily. “Let me use the fucking toilet before I sack your sorry ass.”

 

The hand that had been holding his shoulder suddenly shifted, the bare pads of his fingers caressing the strip of Dave’s exposed throat, sliding up to trace the firm line of his jaw and across his cheek. Bro pressed their bodies tighter together and leaned his head in, so that the tip of his nose ghosted against Dave’s temple. Warm leather cupped his face as those fingers traced the frames of his shades, then carefully nudged them down just enough that he could stare directly into brilliant red eyes. Red…that color was part of the reason he hid his eyes in the first place, and now he was meeting Bro’s hidden gaze unflinchingly with the full oddity of their hue exposed. Bro’s thumb stroked his cheek and he felt the scrape of dry lips against his brow as the taller man lowered himself to be level with his ear. He refused to press his mouth to it, if only to keep Dave’s eyes within his sight, but he made sure the vibrations of his quiet murmur would be captured by the shell.

 

“You’re always on top, always the boss of everything. No one can ever bring themselves to tell you no. Do you know why you’re so attracted to me, Dave? Because I’m about to tell you _no_.” Bro’s voice was soft and yet unyielding, controlling and forceful but in such a smooth and enticing way…and he held Dave’s eyes through it all, as if reveling in the way that he had trouble hiding the expressiveness they put on display. His eyes widened and he _shivered_ and his mental processes all ground to a screeching halt. The protests, the indignation, the frustration, the ferocity, his stubborn pride…all of it had been so abruptly pulled out from underneath him and he was left with nothing but his swelling discomfort.

 

“Bro—“ he choked out, his voice heavy with his pain and the plea he was fully prepared to deliver. Dave was cut off by Bro’s thumb dragging over his lips, and a hot mouth pressed to his jaw.

 

“No.” It was as simple as that, as if there was nothing to the fact that Bro was preparing to completely humiliate one of the topmost figures of modern media. “Not this time.”

 

And somehow, despite himself, he felt excited. Despite knowing what Bro was denying him, despite knowing what this meant for him and the embarrassment he was going to be put through…there was that thrill from before, from when they were drinking together and competing and…then Dave came to the realization, through the haze of the alcohol running rampant in his veins: this was all part of the same game. He hadn’t won at all, because Bro had read him like a book and played him like a fiddle. It was Bro’s turn and he was pulling all the strings taut, calling checkmate.

 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t a sore loser, or that he wasn’t apprehensive about what Bro was planning on making him do.

 

“Alright, I get it! You’re gonna teach me some fucking lesson, give me the thing I’ve been fishing for from my audiences for _years_ – you won, I lost, you’re a sneaky asshole and a real freak. Now that you’ve given me this little epiphany how about you just—“

 

As he made another attempt at persuading Bro against his chosen course of action, the door to the bathroom suddenly opened, bringing with it a rush of the conversation and music from the rest of the bar. Hard leather soles clicked on the polished tile of the bathroom floor, and as the door slowly shut behind the intruder the noises dulled and then were cut off altogether. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer and has all the ~*~good stuff~*~ in it uwu it also has the random cameo from John I don't know how to write John I don't know why he came in I was just writing and it happened most likely for embarrassment purposes?? Anyway please enjoy the conclusion to my novella-length guardiancest fanfiction ;u;

Dave froze and all his muscles went taut as he held his breath, staring at the closed door to their stall like he expected the newcomer to try barging on in. There was the sound of a zipper and the shifting of fabric and Dave became painfully aware of his own pressing need once again, enough that he began to subtly shift his legs about to alleviate some of the sensation of being so full and swollen. It only made matters infinitely worse when the sound of the stranger relieving himself against porcelain echoed about the bathroom, pressing in on Dave’s ears and making his body cry out in turn to have its own relief. Suddenly Bro was kissing him full and hard on the mouth, his lips parted some to massage Dave’s in something rough and possessive and demanding. The hand that had been on his face moved lower, following the path of his custom tie down his clothed chest, slowly descending to the afflicted area of Dave’s abdomen.

 

As he continued to knead their mouths together he began to rub circles over Dave’s lower stomach…it was gentle at first, light and not too obtrusive, almost comforting. But each couple passes seemed to result in more force being applied, and in no time at all it became unbearable. He was squirming under the torturous ministration, the outer pressure combined with his own fullness wrecking havoc on his muscles. They struggled to stay clenched despite his body’s pleas, despite the difficulty of holding back so much…he was breathing hard through his nose and could hardly think to kiss Bro back. His mouth was Bro’s to claim and ravage as he pleased, all of his shattered focus pieced together to the best of his abilities for the sake of preserving his dignity a little longer…and keeping whoever had wandered in here unaware of their presence.

 

Bro’s hand stopped and pressed down _hard_ on his gut, but luckily the choked gasp that welled up in his throat was swallowed by the flushing of the intruder’s urinal, and soon after came the water of the sink. Dave struggled to catch his breath and recover from the abrupt and vicious attack on his composure, but by now he couldn’t stop the trembling of his legs. It seemed like the guy took ages to wash his hands, and all the while he was forced to endure Bro’s sadistic ministrations…sadistic but painfully efficient at their intent, as by now all Dave could think about was the pressure.

 

Finally the door opened again, steps clicked away, and it closed. Silence. They both held still and listened for a few moments, checking to see if anyone else had entered, but when they could hear nothing Dave abruptly crumpled against the wall and gasped for breath. He couldn’t tell if his legs were just shaking violently or if he was bouncing them to pull his focus away from his intense desire. Hell, he hadn’t even realized that Bro’s lips were no longer covering his own.

 

“Shit…sh-shit…” he hissed out breathlessly, no longer bothering to resist the urge to squirm about in Bro’s hold. The older man let him, to some extent, as long as he didn’t try too hard to free himself.

 

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to give in already? You know I’m not going to let you go. Or maybe you’re just a terrible masochist? Why else would you go through all this voluntary suffering? Then again, we both already know that you’re into some pretty weird ass stuff…not really a stretch to think you’re enjoying torturing yourself.” Bro was watching him again, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of his struggle. At least his hand had ceased the awful pushing, moving instead to Dave’s brow to wipe away sweat gathering on his skin.

 

“C-can’t just…fucking…in my pants…god, you’re really…f-fucking serious about this, aren’t you? Jesus Christ, you s…sicko…” The effort it took to hold it in was immense now, and even his will of steel was being eaten away by the second. All of that beer consumed in such a short amount of time meant there was plenty of liquid waiting to be removed from his system…maybe even more than could fit in his bladder at one time. “It’s gonna burst, you a-asshole it’s…gonna fucking burst…fuck…!”

 

Dave tried to fold in on himself, to hold his stomach in his own arms, anything to offer himself a little bit of relief from the discomfort that had become all-encompassing. It was all he could feel, like his entire consciousness had been centered in his overfilled gut and it was slowly consuming every bit of available brain space he had left. Bro refused to allow him that comfort and kept him upright, even as he cursed and struggled and bounced around and rubbed his thighs together, even as the sweating got worse and he felt he couldn’t take in air fast enough to keep up the physical exertion his struggle required.

 

“C’mon Bro…p… _please_ …” The word felt heavy and awful on his tongue, half-sobbed out in his desperation and perhaps more humiliating than the act itself would be. But he was hoping that by offering up this form of submission, he could avoid having to walk out of the bar a sopping mess.

 

Bro’s fingers ran through his hair and he nibbled along Dave’s jaw, briefly grinding against him as he took his time getting his mouth close to that ear again. The movement earned a hiss from Dave. “Give it up already, you know you’ve lost and there’s no point in trying to continue being stubborn. _Do it,_ Dave.”

 

And he must’ve known somehow that Dave had finally had it, because he put a little distance between their bodies…enough that he could continue to hold him back from the toilet while still getting to watch him lose every last ounce of his remaining dignity. It had just become too much for him to handle, more than he could bear to hold back, and the pain was enough to incite some concern over the state of his kidneys if he tried to keep this battle going.

 

Dave slumped against the wall, his legs feeling boneless as he tried to relax each and every muscle that had coiled itself up so tightly in his desperate attempts to restrain himself. His head tilted back and he kept his eyes on the ceiling, avoiding Bro’s gaze, although it did him little good as he could feel eyes traversing his still-shaking form. There was that terrifying moment as he forced himself to unwind and stop fighting, that moment where the pressure remained intense as ever but nervousness seemed to be enough of a force to keep it in. It hurt like hell but nothing came out for that first moment and he gave an extremely pathetic little noise.

 

Then urgency overrode everything else, and the rest of his muscles began to give way.

 

“O-oh fuck, oh fuck…it’s coming out it’scomingfuck…!” His voice shook and was a little higher in pitch as he grabbed for Bro’s arms again, then bit hard into his lower lip to quell any further noises.

 

His grip tightened, blunt nails digging into flesh as the first trickle leaked out. It was hardly anything, embarrassment restricting the flow, but he felt the heat and moisture spreading through the fabric of his close-fitting brief shorts, the wetness held against his skin. But after that the floodgates opened in full force and he breathed in sharp as everything began to come out in a violent rush of warmth. It soaked through his underwear and spilled down his legs, streaked along the expensive fabric of his black slacks and made them stick to his skin, which wet them further. There was no way in hell he could stop it now, or do much of anything other than stand there trembling, holding Bro, and letting it out. The intensity of the sensation, the feeling of the hot torrent spraying from his half-hard dick, was enough to make his eyes prickle…and even though the level of his embarrassment and humiliation was unmatched, there was a certain euphoria at being able to let go.

 

There was so much of it, enough to thoroughly soak him and leave some on the floor, and the process seemed to drag on endlessly. As it continued to rush out of him his relief grew, filling him with a strange sort of pleasure…and when the final drops of it had joined the rest in ruining his clothing, he found the feeling to rival many of the orgasms he’d received throughout his substantial history of sexual encounters. Bro had watched him the entire time, never once allowing his eyes to stray from the scene, although at the very least the dark colors of Dave’s outfit had saved him a little embarrassment. Not very much, mind you, as even with shades on Bro’s gaze burned like he could glimpse every little trail it had made through the fabric.

 

And now he was a complete mess, soaked through with clothing clinging to his lower body, the heat rapidly dissipating and leaving it chilled against his skin. He shuddered and let out a long, shaky breath, his fingers still digging into Bro’s skin for support. A thumb ran over his lower lip again, and this time when Bro’s mouth followed suit he kissed back. It was an irritated mashing of lips on his part, although it lacked the energy to stoke the fires of anger, and the most he could manage was a sharp little nip before Bro pulled back again.

 

“Wouldn’t it have been a hell of a lot easier to just do that in the first place?” Bro chided, his tone once more laced with that mocking edge that made Dave want to punch him in the face.

 

“How the fuck am I going to get out of this place without making a complete fool of myself and ruining my whole god damned career?” he hissed back. Sure he had given in and it had felt fucking amazing, but that didn’t mean he was happy about the whole thing. That smirk was back again too, tugging at Bro’s lips in an infuriatingly sexy way.

 

“Just keep calm, play it cool, act natural. If you don’t flip all of your shit then they’re less likely to pay attention to you – considering your reputation I’m about eighty-seven percent sure that most celebrities have conditioned themselves to ignore your antics.” And before Bro had even finished speaking, the beer that he had been holding all this time was abruptly dumped over Dave’s clothes, starting from a little higher up on his torso, but Bro made sure to get some all down his legs as well. Dave just stood there in incredulous shock for a moment, his face twisted in a look of incomprehension over the sensation of lukewarm beer joining the mess his clothing had been made into.

 

Before he could even recover from the shock, Bro was leading him out of the stall by his elbow. It was the wet squelching noise that accompanied each of Dave’s steps that brought him back into his senses, the feeling of soiled socks in wet shoes and the way his pant legs refused to relinquish their grip on his calves.

 

“Do you even realize what I had to go through to get these shoes, you—“ he began venomously as the realization of his current state properly sunk in. Bro tugged on him a little more forcefully and casually tossed the now-empty beer bottle into the trash can on their way to the door, although he paused with his hand pressed to the wooden surface separating Dave from privacy and the inevitable destruction of his public image.

 

“Remember, kiddo. Don’t blow your fucking cover and they won’t even notice you’re walking like you’re wading through the stinking bodies of a thousand drunk and horny fans. Out you go.” And then the barrier was gone, his protection stripped from him in the blink of an eye. The pulse of the music drowned out the disgusting sounds his steps made as Bro pushed him along, but he felt nothing could hide the peculiar way the fabric clung to his body, or the mixed aroma of alcohol and…other fluids he would prefer not to think about being covered in. And yet to his surprise the beer seemed to overpower the smell that would have truly given his state away.

 

But he was still tense and stiff as they made their way through the bar, in a straight line to the door…with the occasional swaying due to intoxication. He tried to pick up the pace but Bro held him back and gave him a look, a silent reminder of the warning he’d spoken before they left the safety of the bathroom. Dave felt like he was in a fucking war zone, crossing the field of battle and dodging glances, trying to be less interesting than the other targets so as to slip through undetected. They were in the final leg of the establishment, hardly any distance from the doors (which were in turn a very short walk from his car…he could only hope that the obviously expensive vehicle hadn’t attracted unwanted attention) when he heard his name and froze.

 

Ignoring the greeting would have only drawn more attention to himself, so he turned slowly and kept his expression level as his gaze zeroed in on the asshole that had dared to interrupt him.

 

That asshole happened to be a black-haired, blue-eyed, bespeckled comedian who had at some point or another forcibly wormed his way into Dave’s life and snatched up the title of “friend” with the utmost triumph. A huge grin was plastered across his face, showing off his disproportionate front teeth, but everything about his expression screamed innocent, unexpected pleasure at finding Dave here. John Egbert was one of the few big name celebrities that managed to hold on to his enjoyment of simple pleasures and a weird sort of honesty, sincerity, and openness that made it pretty impossible for even the most twisted of paparazzi to consider smearing his name.

 

But now that cute little puppy dog friendship was going to get Dave in immense trouble.

 

“Dave! I’ve been calling you for ages, do you have something stuck in your ears?” John stopped a little ways before them and continued beaming away, not yet seeming to notice the current state of Dave’s clothes. He also didn’t seem to notice the fact that Dave was tense as all hell, the flat line of his mouth just a little too tight to pass as his usual façade of indifference. “Anyway, I thought you were still really busy with that new script, otherwise I would’ve invited you out with us!”

 

“Just wrapped that baby up tight a few hours ago – the delivery was successful and we’re proud to announce it’s a precious little bundle of ironic genius. In fact, this is probably my favorite of the litter. I think I’ll spoil it silly and write all the others out of my will…not like they ever remember to send a card on my birthday, anyway.” He wanted to shove his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from fidgeting, as now that he was standing still in the presence of a friend it seemed to highlight his discomfort, the way his legs were cold and wet and sticky and beginning to itch a little. But his pockets had been ruined too, and he really didn’t want to get that shit on his hands.

 

And Bro? That bastard was just standing there casually next to him, not saying a word or doing a damned thing. Not that Dave expected John to rat out his situation…but it would be embarrassing as hell nonetheless.

 

“It’s not nice to pick favorites, Dave!” John play-scolded in return. “But congratulations on the script, I bet it’s gonna knock ‘em dead. Since you aren’t busy writing anymore you should come join Rose and me! I just got back from a big tour and really missed you guys…” He was doing that thing again, with the sincerity and the big eyes and the smile and Dave could feel himself crumbling even as he began to panic inside, wondering what the hell he was going to do about his ruined clothing.

 

And then a hand slipped down the curve of his back, casual as could be, and blatantly caressed his ass through the soaked fabric of his incredibly expensive slacks. There weren’t any patrons seated behind him, but should someone walk through the door they would be greeted with the sight of Dave’s choice ass getting assaulted by Bro’s wickedly skilled hand…

 

Somehow that replaced a good portion of Dave’s apprehension with excitement and he could feel his nerves beginning to buzz again, his heart rate picking up and his breath catching. He knew exactly what Bro was after now, and although he was usually incapable of denying John, he was feeling just a little bit selfish under the influence of the night’s events.

 

Bro really did have complete control over the situation. Fuck.

 

“Dude I’d love to but I think I just drank my weight in beer for the sake of proving this asshole here that I’m the master of consuming awful products in the name of irony. I won’t be able to scrub the flavor out of my mouth even if I brush my tastebuds clean off my tongue but it was pretty fucking worth it to see the look on his face. Tell you what though, you got my number so just hit me up later and I’ll make some time, no worries.”

 

It was hard to keep his voice straight when Bro was digging his fingers in, scraping his nails along the fabric, catching some between his thumb and forefinger and pulling back so Dave got to feel it slowly peel away from his skin. But even if John hadn’t yet noticed his wet pants, the effect of Bro’s ministrations would soon make themselves known if he didn’t get out of there fast.

 

“Aw man, if only we’d found you a little sooner! Shucks…you can bet I’ll hold you to that, though! And then maybe you can introduce me to this guy – he’s helping you with the new movie, right?” John looked right at Bro and gave him his usual smile, even offered his hand. For a long moment it didn’t seem like Bro would accept it…if only to prolong the torment he was currently putting Dave through. But he took it and gave it a brief shake as he nodded his head.

 

“What he won’t tell you is that I assisted with the script…quite significantly. But for the sake of his pride we can let him deny it to his grave. I’m already familiar with your work, John Egbert.” Bro had no difficulty holding his voice absolutely steady, even though his fingers were beginning to press and massage between Dave’s cheeks, and the smaller blond had to use every ounce of control at his disposal to keep from arching his back and keening. Okay, they needed to get going, and they needed to get going _now_.

 

“Haha, that’s Dave alright!” But of course the loser looked honestly surprised and flattered that Bro knew him…even though it would’ve been a certified crime if they could find anyone who _hadn’t_ heard of John Egbert in this day and age. “Oh wow, really? Thanks! Well I’m really interested to hear if you’ve helped Dave with his story telling abilities any – he’s kind of really awful at it!”

 

John laughed again (although it was really more like a giggle crossed with a hiccup), freely and honestly and without any concern for the fact that neither Bro nor Dave were laughing with him. But when he was finished he seemed to realize that Dave hadn’t immediately snapped some comeback about the quality of his films, and that seemed to set off his alarm bells that something was a little bit on the wrong side. He blinked his great big eyes and pursed his lips curiously, although his teeth still poked out so it ended up looking more silly than anything, and his expression was blatantly awash with confusion and concern. Slowly his gaze fell from Dave’s tense, uncomfortable face to his rumpled clothes, down lower to take in the awkward way his pants clung to his form. Something seemed to be slowly dawning on him, but when he looked back up with his mouth open in preparation to voice his innocent question, Bro jumped in.

 

“I’ll be happy to tell you all about the things I’ve done with Dave when next we meet. Gotta get this guy back home before he makes a fool of himself, so have a pleasant evening.” With a nod in John’s direction Bro was leading Dave out of the bar again, although this time the confusion was enough to keep John from pursuing. He just stood there blinking, mouth still open, as he watched them leave the establishment.

 

They didn’t speak another word until they got back to Dave’s car, when Bro casually slipped the keys from his pocket and got in the driver’s seat. That seemed to be what snapped Dave back into the present, got his heart pounding again after that temporary freeze when he thought John had realized what was up.

 

“What the ever-loving fuck? Was that really fucking necessary?” Dave didn’t know what he meant at this point, whether it was outrage at being groped in front of his friend or the fact that Bro was now commandeering his car.

 

“Was preventing you from lingering in your little friend’s presence long enough to blow your cover really necessary? Apparently yes. At least I’m assuming that’s what you’re getting your soaked panties in a twist over. Get in the car, Dave.” Bro had disregarded his seatbelt, but had pressed the button to start the ignition, and the engine purred to life almost silently. Even the vibrations were dampened, but the whole dashboard lit up with a gentle red light, and the headlights flicked on. Bro shut the driver’s door as if to end discussion on the matter, and Dave felt his blood begin to boil. He took a deep breath and opened the passenger’s side.

 

“I don’t need you to drive, I’m barely even tipsy for god’s sake. Shit, do you know the grade of leather used on these seats? And now, thanks to you, I’m smearing piss and beer all over it like some kind of uncultured drunken bum off the streets. Demoting my customized money sink of a bitch magnet into some kind of third rate taxi cab, and all because you have a twisted as fuck mind and a fascination with power games…” He meant it to be more snappy and pissy than it came out as…instead he just sounded whiny.

 

Despite all of his complaints, after a moment of standing there glaring at Bro behind his shades, he slid into the seat and shut the door, his arms folded over his chest. For all of his complaints he was half-hard in his ruined pants, still thrilled and excited by the level of control Bro exerted, by the obedience he demanded…and though his humiliation was still burned into his mind and tingling along his skin, he knew full well that the thing he’d been searching for all this time was someone able to take him down a notch. This was wrong, messed up, _infuriating_ , and exactly what he wanted.

 

 

* * *

 

They were silent for the entire drive, for the ride on the elevator up to his penthouse, and even when he snatched his keys back from Bro to unlock his door. It was a huge place and took up the entirety of the top floor…all custom designed to his demands, of course, and very modern. There were lots of blacks and whites and reds, tons of electronics, nice furniture and rugs, wooden floors…but Bro hadn’t been impressed the first time he’d seen it, and he certainly didn’t change his tune now. He didn’t even bother to look around at his surroundings, although to be fair he had probably gotten rather familiar with them during all the time they’d spent writing together.

 

But he just grabbed Dave’s arm as he was kicking off his ruined shoes and toeing off his socks with a look of disgust, nearly making him trip as he tugged him along in the direction of the master bedroom. Dave gave a startled noise of irritation but couldn’t be assed to mouth off at him again…he had to admit that he was a little eager to feel Bro’s hands on his bare skin after that sneak preview in the bar. That, and he was really sick and tired of being filthy. It’s just that he wasn’t too keen on being dragged about in the way Bro had been handling him for most of the night. In a way it seemed like Bro’s immense patience had finally snapped and he couldn’t keep himself from grabbing Dave whenever an opportunity presented itself, no matter how small.

 

So he pushed himself in front of Bro and took the lead, and to his surprise the larger man let him. With his chin up and his shoulders back, a far cry from his usual posture (but he didn’t normally feel like he needed to regain his dignity), he walked through his huge bedroom and into the master bathroom.

 

To be honest Dave wasn’t too bothered by his living conditions. If he had the money to spend and the ability to have awe-inspiring rooms shrouded in luxury, he would most certainly take advantage of it. But that wasn’t to say that he was particularly attached to the highly expensive penthouse he had put together. This bathroom, however, had become far more than an ironic display of the luxury expected from someone of his standing…the masses of over the top features he had piled into this single room had become pure necessity for dealing with the stress, tension, and lack of sleep that he faced in his everyday life.

 

His bathroom alone was as big as a normal bedroom, separated into two parts by a bisected archway; on one side of the archway was the shower, tucked into the alcove of the oddly shaped wall, and the other side acted as a doorless walkway. The tile was real stone, pale and glossy without being excessively slippery, and contained an entire heating system – Dave Strider would not tolerate the shock of stepping out onto a cold tile floor after an excessively warm shower. The counter space surrounding the sink was generous and lined with LED tiles to create a gentle glow when the main lights were off, and the round handles controlling the water flow were custom made to look like his trademark broken record. The toilet even had a cushy looking seat.

 

But no, the real pride and joy of his bathroom was in the shower, and he longed to be using it more than ever.

 

It seemed he had finally startled Bro with one of his over the top designs, as the man didn’t immediately move to follow his motions as he hurriedly and shamelessly undressed, carelessly discarding the ruined articles on the floor as he approached the clear, frameless, almost invisible glass doors. They slid apart for him with a soft hiss, and he glanced over his shoulder at Bro with a raised eyebrow and a vague smirk while he stepped inside.

 

The shower was large and at a slight angle to fit into the odd shape of the room, with the pillar bisecting the archway forming one of its interior walls, and the main wall of the room forming the other. The fourth side was a second door that led into the rest of the bathroom, another sliding automatic glass fixture, which revealed the intricate fireplace, long wooden bench, and waterproof flat screen TV on the other side…the little corner he set aside for drying and relaxing in the remaining steam.

 

It was on the same level as the floor and required no stepping into or out of, with soft absorbent pads set at both the doors to collect moisture. It was tiled just the same and had quite a number of showerheads at different angles to provide water flow to any part of the shower at any time, all controlled separately by a waterproof touchscreen embedded in the tile wall. This panel also controlled access to the TV, the lights around the room, and the surround sound music system he had installed around the entire apartment…although it only controlled the speakers within the bathroom itself. There was even enough room in the shower to house a water resistant wooden lounge chair against one wall and still have enough space to walk through it…for those times when he didn’t feel much like standing while he showered.

 

And, of course, it wouldn’t have been complete without the built in foot bath and massage station, which currently looked like no more than a square pane of glass over a dip in the floor, conveniently located at the foot of the lounge chair.

 

There was a little compartment in the wall where he placed his shades before standing before the touchscreen panel, swiping his fingers across the screen and tapping away soundlessly. Bro finally joined him in the shower, pressing his naked body up against his back as the low throb of music began to spill into the bathroom from the hidden speakers. It was something with a beat, electronic and vibrant, the bass turned up high enough to feel it in his chest. As Bro’s mouth descended on the exposed curve of his neck, biting and kissing and laving attention over the skin with the soft flat of his tongue, Dave pressed a few more buttons, the doors clicked shut, and the water turned on.

 

It came from the slanted ceiling of the shower and from both walls, enough to cover them completely but at a pace that wouldn’t drown them. The moment it left the showerheads it was already at the pre-programmed temperature Dave had set it at – which was almost as high as the system would allow. When the spray hit his skin he gave a hiss of pleasure, and felt the tremor that ran through Bro’s body in turn as he grew accustomed to the temperature. A few more button strokes and the streams of water were colored with LED lights, fading from red, to blue, to purple, and back.

 

Well, maybe he was just showing off the capabilities of his shower a little bit.

 

Bro gave it a brief glance, then snorted and returned to his ministrations; all of his attention seemed to hone in on touching Dave, on running his large, now bare hands over his arms and across his chest, nails catching on his nipples and making him jump as his palms continued to travel along the lines of his ribs, tracing his muscles and the pattern they played out on his abdomen. Whenever he found a spot that got Dave to shiver particularly hard, or to give a soft breathy noise, he’d allow his fingers to linger and rub circles into his skin, to scrape his nails back and forth, to brush feather-light and mimic the caress of the hot water.

 

It was impossible to tell the heat of Bro’s breath from the water, but he could feel the heat of his body just fine as he pressed closer to him, the firm and toned line of his chest curving perfectly to fit against his back…all the way to his jutting hipbones and the hardening cock he was grinding against Dave’s ass. He sucked hard on Dave’s neck while his fingers worked across Dave’s hips and slowly down to his thighs before slowly teasing inwards.

 

Dave’s head felt stuffed full of foam as he leaned and arched into Bro’s hands, and despite the temperature of the water the internal heat the touches were igniting within him was far greater. The music thrummed through him, created a rhythm for them to work by, and the water quickened the removal of the tension from his muscles. It all overlapped into something exceptionally pleasant, something that would have been impossible not to get lost in, and as such he found most organized thought slipping away from him.

 

Rather abruptly he was pushed onto the lounge chair, already propped back enough that he was practically lying down and looking right up into Bro’s face. His usually messily spiked hair was clinging to his forehead, his cheeks and neck, but his shades remained over his eyes and Dave suddenly felt abhorrently naked without his own. And yet he laid there, partially sprawled on the wooden surface, doing nothing to cover himself and not daring to shift his gaze. He let Bro look him over, although he felt that he was most interested in drinking in the sight of his bright red eyes.

 

The water changed to match the shade and then Bro finally moved, sliding to his knees with the bar of soap he’d managed to find in another wall compartment. He kissed at Dave’s thighs as he rubbed the soap between his hands to lather it up, and as Dave struggled not to let out the soft sighs of enjoyment, Bro suddenly caught some of his skin between his teeth and bit hard enough to make him choke on his sharp intake of breath. Then he was soothing with his tongue, placing his lips over the area and sucking, and Dave was horrified at the thought of what fluids might still be lingering on his skin. But embarrassment be damned, because the way Bro licked and nibbled and sucked at his thigh made it hard to care about anything…and soon his soapy hands were joining the mix, massaging between his toes and along the balls of his feet, over his ankles and up his calves, sliding and rubbing at his thighs.

 

He lifted his head then, if only to let his fingers take over and clean every bit of flesh that had been involved in his little accident. Dave got a glimpse of the nice red mark Bro had left on his skin, but when he felt the man staring at him he lifted his gaze to those covered eyes once more, as if meeting the challenge. The pace of Bro’s fingers was slow and sensual, but demanding of his attention with the expert way they manipulated his nerves. It sent all sorts of tingling heat straight to his groin in steady crashing waves that matched the movements of his hands, and that meant that his dick was beginning to stiffen and stand at attention. Bro refused to touch it just yet however, choosing to save it for last as he rubbed soap all around the rest of his legs, even up as far as his hips and navel. As he massaged it on the water washed it away, finally relieving him of the obnoxious sticky sensation clinging to his skin. The fact that Bro was looking right at him the entire time didn’t help with his arousal any, either, but despite his body’s reactions Bro’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, even when he shifted and pressed into his hands and gave soft, needy groans.

 

It wasn’t until Bro was good and ready that he finally slid his fingers ever so gently over the taut skin of his erection, stroking from the very base to the enflamed tip. Then he curled his hand around the shaft and dug his thumb against the head, making Dave’s hips jump up and a startled shout escape his throat, but he kept up the merciless rubbing. There was something electric jumping between their stares, holding their gazes locked together, and it seemed to spur Bro on into cruelty; he stroked Dave hard and fast, his grip almost uncomfortably tight but lingering in the realm of bearable, and his own pulsing erection lay heavily against Dave’s leg.

 

Even in this area Bro was a pro at manipulating him, and he knew he was melting in his hands and under his heated gaze. He was trusting Bro with a fairly intimate activity, allowing him to take the reins and do as he pleased, and in turn Bro was working his body into the obedience he desired. No one else had ever had this level of control over him, and maybe that’s why he didn’t know how to stop himself from unwinding in response to it. Just remembering the way he had denied him his demands sent a particularly harsh shiver down his spine, which in turn made his hips buck up into Bro’s hand. His breathing was growing rapid, the intensity of his pace and the pulse of the music and the throbbing of his cock under the spray of the water…it brought him close, threatened to end him right there, and as he was shaking with the beginnings of an orgasm he suddenly found himself denied of the touches that would finish it.

 

His breathing was ragged as he slumped against the wooden embrace of his chair, his eyes glazed and nearly looking past Bro as he fidgeted under the force of the pleasure still coiled up in his tightened pelvic muscles. The equally taut muscles of his stomach quivered, and then he gave a weak groan of his frustrations.

 

“Haven’t you tortured me enough to last at _least_ one night? Do you seriously have to be an asshole about _everything_?” He sounded weary and strained as the water washed the suds away from his aching cock, the gentle caress enough to make his hips raise a little as he desperately sought out more stimulation.

 

“How often do you take it up the ass, little man?” Bro asked, his voice remaining oddly casual despite the situation. But something about his voice suggested that he already knew the answer to his question, and he was asking more for Dave’s sake than for his own. All of the unrelated subject changes were really starting to irk Dave, though, and he let it show in his face – no sign of embarrassment, just annoyance as Bro got to his feet and stood near his head.

 

It was a little bit harder to look annoyed when there was a giant fucking cock in his face.

 

“Uh, like never? Why the hell would I let anyone stick it in my ass?” There _had_ actually been one time, but he wasn’t about to talk about it…nor was he going to mention that he had a few toys, because there were occasions when he lived up to the rich asshole stereotype and deciding who was good enough to get in his backdoor was one of those occasions. Not that he didn’t _like_ it…

 

And yet he felt somehow that all of that was communicated to Bro somehow, as if he had guessed as much and Dave’s answer had been sufficient to assure him. He swallowed and tried not to look at the erection mere inches from him, long and thick and well-shaped, veins crisscrossing along the flushed flesh, the head flared nicely…and all of it looked even more enticing when streaked with water, under the glow of the changing lights. As he was looking it over, he rapidly became aware of the fact that it was being pushed in his direction, and then nudged against his lips. He looked startled for a moment, jerking back just a little and glancing up at Bro’s face, but the bastard was merely smirking down at him. One of Bro’s hands slid through Dave’s slick hair and held the back of his head while he rested the tip of his cock against those plush lips again.

 

“I’m not going to just jerk you off because that’s not what you want. I think you’ll prefer this.”

 

Embarrassingly enough, his mouth _was_ beginning to water just a little, and his lower lip trembled with his indecision. But he had already given in to Bro’s whims in the restroom, had already been shown what his resistance would lead to and what little power he had when Bro didn’t want him to have any…he gave up and parted his lips, let his tongue slide against the smooth surface of the head, the tip of the muscle paying close attention to the little slit in the center. He swirled it in lazy circles and underneath the little ridge where the head met the shaft, cleaning off the drops of water and watching as they regathered. All the while Bro stroked his wet hair with one hand, enough that he was able to gather a handful of it and hold it like a leash, but he didn’t guide Dave’s motions, nor did he tell him how he expected him to do it.

 

Not that he had any reason to, because Dave was fucking boss at giving blowjobs.

 

It was something he honestly enjoyed, although there’s no way he’d admit it, and when he was presented with such a fine specimen it was hard not to end up getting really into it. The taste and smell were mild but clearly Bro’s, and intoxicating nonetheless…it mingled with the effects the alcohol had already placed on him, lowered his inhibitions further, made him crave that cock before he’d barely started licking it, and soon enough he was passionately craning his neck and pressing kisses along the underside, open-mouthed and greedy with his tongue frequently stroking the line of a vein. He cupped Bro’s balls in his hand and squeezed them, rolled them about his palm and between his fingers, massaged them roughly with his thumb as he slid his mouth back up and he couldn’t seem to get the head of Bro’s dick into his mouth fast enough.

 

As it began to press past the soft barrier of his lips, his eyes barely open under the weight of his own unironic enjoyment, Bro gave the softest of groans, entertwined with an exhalation so as to cover it up. But Dave heard it and it sent a shock of pleasure through him to know that he was doing well, enough to make him double his efforts and tilt his head as he pushed more into his mouth and let it lay heavily against his tongue. The muscle worked it over well with all the little techniques he’d learned over the years, all the twisting and curling and zig-zagging motions that had gotten quite a good reception from his partners. He knew where to press and how much suction to use, how to lightly scrape his teeth to cause a pleasurable sort of discomfort, and he knew how to relax his throat and let inch after inch of that monster shaft slide in.

 

Hell, he was so distracted with the act that he hadn’t noticed Bro reach over him with his free hand, didn’t know it when he’d grabbed the bottle of conditioner, worked it open with his thumb, and did some fucking sweet maneuvering action to get some of the substance on his fingers. The noise of the bottle hitting the tile floor didn’t even make it into his consciousness as he happily slurped on that cock. No, it wasn’t until he felt a slick finger rubbing against his entrance that he was pulled out of his reverie, and his whole body gave a jerk. Whatever he tried to say was muffled around the cock stretching his lips wide and waiting just at the entrance to his throat.

 

In response, Bro began to slowly move his hips, sliding his cock in and out of Dave’s mouth, and shit did he enjoy that. The muffled words turned to moans as his hands slid up to hold Bro’s hips, as leverage to help him take the length he chose to try and fit in his mouth. There was no point in attempting to stop Bro…it seemed he really did know what he wanted.

 

“The truth is, you’ve been aching to get pounded by a rock hard erection. You’re just picky as fuck as to whose erection you let in your plush little rump. But I think we both know that I make the cut…so you just sit back and let me take my prize for beating your ass.” It finally seemed that Bro’s voice was getting affected by what Dave was doing to him…it wavered a little, and was a little rougher than he usually allowed it to get. The change in sound was oddly sexy, and as he spoke he began to rub his fingertip against Dave’s entrance in slow, lazy circles that started out light. As he spread more of the slippery conditioner against him, his pressure began to increase until he was repeatedly nudging at the tight ring of muscle.

 

At this point, any shame Dave felt at spreading his legs for Bro was swallowed up in the heat of the moment and four bottles of beer. He occupied himself with his enthusiastic sucking, picking up some of the slack by bobbing his head when Bro focused on working his finger against him, but most of his attention was on the way that finger slid around his sensitive entrance, sending tiny spasms through his muscles. And then Bro was pushing, really pushing, and perhaps it was his own arousal that made the first digit of his thick finger slide in with ease. He arched a little at the peculiar stretching sensation, at the way he could feel every little movement, and the beat of the music seemed to vibrate through the finger and inside him. Bro took his time rubbing against his tight, smooth walls as he worked the finger in, but there was some growing urgency to his motions. It probably didn’t help that the intensity had inadvertently gotten Dave to suck harder on Bro’s cock, either.

 

Once he had wiggled his way as deeply into Dave’s body as he could get the finger, he began to move it properly in a shallow thrusting motion. It still felt a bit strange to be gripping something, but his body was getting accustomed to it, and the more Bro moved it, the better it began to feel. It wasn’t nearly as pleasurable as stroking his cock, not yet…but it was enough to make him breath heavily through his nose as he bobbed his head, his hips beginning to move with Bro ever so slightly.

 

When he had relaxed enough to accommodate one finger without any difficulty, a second one began to press against his stretched hole, rubbing along it and gradually applying pressure in a sped up review of what the first finger had gone through. Bro didn’t wait as long this time, and when he pushed in there was a brief moment of discomfort where Dave stiffened, his muscles tightening around the two fingers, but Bro pressed on anyway and refused to stop until he’d gotten to the third knuckle. This wasn’t the most he’d ever had inside him, but it had been a while since he’d fucked himself…it mostly felt odd, and the stretching sensation was definitely greater now. He shifted his hips and slowed his sucking and bobbing, and Bro gave him a few moments to stop gripping his fingers so hard before he began to move the two of them in unison.

 

It started slow but firm, and this time it was a little uncomfortable as he moved. The water and conditioner helped to reduce the friction and allowed his fingers to slide in and out, but his muscles remained tight around them for a while yet. He wouldn’t have described it as pleasant really, and less so when Bro began the necessary scissoring to try and make a bit more room for him to work. But once he grew used to the feeling and stopped gripping him so hard, he was able to move a little more freely and could pick up the pace.

 

For the most part he was just lazily sucking on Bro’s dick and swirling his tongue around it, most of his focus on relaxing himself to allow Bro to do as he pleased, but as it began to feel better his ministrations became more forceful and needy again. Obviously Bro knew what he was doing as he rocked his hand into him, fingers curled up and pressing against his walls. He knew what he was looking for and the general area where he’d find it, and he rubbed incessantly about with his fingertips after each little thrust. The pleasure was mild but there, nothing particularly amazing, though he found he rather liked how it felt to be full of Bro’s fingers and he was slowly developing a craving to be stuffed with something bigger and more satisfying.

 

That’s when Bro struck what he was looking for, shocking Dave with an explosion of sensation that he felt deep inside, something that was resonated out along the length of his dick and left his body humming even after the jolt had begun to fade. It was impossible to muffle the cry he had given around Bro’s dick, or to stop the sharp buck of his hips in response to it, and he lay there trembling and reeling from the suddenness and intensity of it.

 

Bro didn’t give him much time to recover and at once began to repeatedly strike that place with the combined efforts of both fingers, roughly thrusting into his ass so that the noise of slick skin rubbing together was just slightly audible in combination with the music. At first Dave tried to reel in his reactions, but with the merciless way Bro worked him over it was impossible. The waves of pleasure came so fast that he didn’t have time to regain any sort of composure at all, and while they were definitely centered around that spot inside of him, the more Bro pounded away at it, the more the pleasure seemed to spread through him down to his toes and up to his fingertips.

 

He was all but squirming on the chair, his legs spread wide but sometimes threatening to snap shut when the sensation seemed to be overwhelming him, and his noises were loud and frequent as he desperately tried to swallow more of Bro’s cock. All of these reactions, getting to see Dave unraveling so completely, finally got something out of Bro in turn, and as he fucked Dave’s ass with his fingers his grip on his hair tightened and his hips began to move once again. This time the movement was less controlled, falling mostly in time with his fingers…and he wasn’t doing anything to slow his hard and fast pace. His cock slid in and out of Dave’s mouth, each jab seeming to push it in deeper, his lips and tongue dragging along its surface as he swallowed and moaned around it. Even Bro was beginning to breathe hard, and his pace grew a little more erratic.

 

One particularly forceful thrust pushed his dick in a little too deep and Dave gagged, coughing and spluttering around the shaft buried in his throat. Bro held it there a moment longer before he pulled out altogether, though his fingers still worked his ass at that brutal pace.

 

“We both know this isn’t enough for you – you aren’t even fucking close to being satisfied with just my fingers,” Bro practically purred, his voice heavily laden with his own lust and need. Dave gasped for breath, still trying to clear his windpipes a little, but even then he couldn’t really stop the pleasured noises vibrating in his chest. His hips were moving with Bro’s as best they could, trying to assist him in fucking himself, but it was true that it wasn’t quite as thick or as long as he would have liked. What he wanted was Bro’s dick buried in his ass.

 

“Speak up kiddo, I can’t understand a word you’re saying when you’re mumbling like that. Do you want this?” He used his hips to rub the head of his dick back and forth against Dave’s cheek, occasionally grinding it against his lips, although his intention was not to get back in his mouth. “Tell me what you want and what I should do with it, and I’ll be more than happy to give it to you.”

 

But the asshole wasn’t making it easy of course. He was still sending those electric jolts of pleasure through him, over and over again at a pace that was hard as fuck to handle…it made him want to finish, made him need Bro’s cock to finish, though it was difficult to get anything other than desperate gasps and groans past his lips. One of his hands grabbed Bro’s wrist shakily, trying to slow him down, but his strength was sapped by the pleasure and the larger man refused to offer him any semblance of mercy.

 

“H…oly shit…fucking…d-damnit…Bro I…I want…” He arched his back and cried out loud enough to drown out the sound of the music for a moment, the sound echoing in the steamy bathroom as Bro pressed particularly hard against his prostate. “Oh…fuck…I need…your fucking cock, f-for god’s sake…!”

 

“I know you need it; what do you need it to do?” Bro leaned down to be eye-to-eye with him, his voice lowered into something seductive and demanding of the exact answer he desired.

 

“Inside…to cum… _fuck me_ …!”

 

Bro could read him well enough and he seemed to get that he couldn’t handle anymore of this torment, so he ceased his harsh movements and slowly pulled his fingers out of Dave, causing a shudder to run through him before he slumped back against the chair and tried to get his breath back. He continued to give little shivers and jerks, however, and Bro watched him hungrily as he picked up the discarded conditioner bottle and squirted a generous amount on his dick, not particularly caring about what missed his shaft and was washed down the drain. Even Dave couldn’t voice some complaint about how expensive his hair product was – he watched Bro with half-lidded eyes as he smeared the opalescent liquid over his dick and pushed Dave’s knees up as far as they would go.

 

The chair slanted a bit at the legs so he couldn’t properly sit on it, but it was low enough that he could stand with his legs on either side and, holding onto Dave’s thighs, position himself so that the tip of his dick rested against Dave’s stretched entrance. He was too ready for it to feel any sort of apprehension or nervousness; all that was left was his need, and he remained mostly relaxed as Bro used one hand to guide himself inside without another word.

 

It stung a bit, he wasn’t going to lie about that. It wasn’t immediately pleasant or amazing, but more uncomfortable than anything else…slightly painful but nothing he couldn’t handle with a bit of a grimace, though most of the sensation was that of his walls being pushed apart, of being opened wide to take in Bro’s rather large length and significant girth. Bro wasn’t very slow or gentle about it, as he had apparently had enough waiting and teasing as well, so Dave was shaking at the feeling of being filled up so rapidly. It seemed like every breath made him feel it clearly, every shift and movement, and his muscles seemed intent on involuntarily twitching around him so frequently that it threatened to drive him up a wall.

 

But he stopped then, quite unexpectedly, once he was buried all the way in his ass. He held still and just leaned over Dave, breathing harshly as the water rained down on them and the music thumped away. Dave was grateful for the pause as all the heat was beginning to make him feel a bit dizzy, and the time to adjust definitely made it easier to handle something so large and…noticeably throbbing within him. Despite how desperate for it he was, something struck him then and he found himself blurting it out.

 

“How did you even know…that I would be cool with something so fucking kinky…?”

 

He didn’t even need to mention that he was talking about the instance in the bar bathroom, he could see it in the way that a slow smirk began to cross Bro’s face as soon as the words had left his lips that Bro understood. Suddenly he leaned down and kissed Dave hard on the mouth, a brief but intense and possessive gesture that made the pleasure in the pit of his stomach coil tighter. Then his lips were at his ear as he was beginning to move his hips, slow at first, taking the time to draw himself back almost all the way before pushing himself in again.

 

“You wouldn’t have contacted me if you weren’t.”

 

Just like that he was done with being gentle, rapidly working up the speed and force of his thrusts like a piston of pure muscle and testosterone and sexy, water cascading off of his back and dripping down his sides and chest onto Dave’s body while he fucked him. It didn’t take him long to match the beat of the song, so that he was pounding into his ass like he was determined to tear him open and lay all his insecurities, all his secret desires, all his most private reactions completely bare. Each vicious thrust of his hips seemed to echo the message he was determined to pound into Dave; he was his because no one else could make him submit like he could, no one else could control him like he could, no one else could make him feel so fucking good like he could.

 

No one else knew exactly what he wanted and was enough of an equal to be able to give it to him.

 

This was rough, raw, and passionate, meant to take Dave down off his high horse as much as it was meant to put on display how they were meant for each other, one in the same in the way they viewed the world, in their oddities and twisted humors and strange desires. It was the most intense thing Dave had ever felt in his life, and although it took Bro a few thrusts and experimental angles to find his prostate again, once he struck it with the head of his cock it knocked the wind right out of Dave.

 

Dave arched up and clung to Bro around the shoulders, his mouth open in a silent shout as the ripple of pleasure rocked through him and made his body shake. Bro did it again and again, all in rapid succession, aiming each time to hit it dead on. Dave did his best to grind up against him but Bro hardly gave him a chance; the ferocity of his movements made the chair creak beneath them, nearly threatening to give out, and the sound of their skin slapping together rang out in time with the thud of the bass. The vibrations of the music rolling through his body seemed to connect with the resounding pleasure deep within him, acting as some kind of positive feedback loop that consumed his whole being and made every nerve sing with heat and sensation until he thought he might just melt.

 

“You fucking…love to get fucked, don’t you?” Bro hissed out between his clenched teeth, the exertion of his violent movements both audible in his voice and visible in the trembling of his flexed muscles as he moved.

 

“Y…yes, yes, fuck ye…s…! G-god Bro, fuck me…!” It was building, overwhelming, but not quite enough, and in his desperation he urged Bro on harder, trying to ride his cock to orgasm. If the sharper, more jerky movements Bro was giving were any indication, Dave figured he wasn’t the only one who wanted to cum.

 

“Stroke yourself then; make yourself cum around my cock while I pound your ass.” There was no question that his words were an order and nothing else, and he pulled back ever so slightly to watch Dave move beneath him. Dave was in no position to deny him, either, and immediately curled a hand around his dripping erection, his hold tight as he began to desperately pump himself. He was so aroused that he could feel this rapidly drawing him to the edge, the last little bit of stimulation that he needed to bring him to his finish.

 

“Cum for me, Dave,” Bro ordered, voice attractively husky from his own approaching orgasm.

 

It was enough for Dave, even if he wouldn’t have been able to hold back anyway. That peak of pleasure rocketed through the entirety of his body and shook him hard, crashed into him forcefully enough to blur his vision and nearly numb his extremities from the pleasure. He could feel each spasm of his muscles around Bro’s dick as he came, milking out ropes of cum from his own cock, splattering the two of them in it while his breath caught in his throat and every muscle in his body was pulled taut like a bowstring ready to snap.

 

Everything about it was so completely overwhelming, and when combined with his intoxication, the lack of sleep, and the exertion from his harsh work schedule, it probably wasn’t any surprise that his consciousness faded – just after his frazzled senses picked up Bro’s grunt and the feeling of something hot splashing against his thoroughly fucked insides.

 

 

* * *

 

The thing that woke him up was not, in fact, a pounding headache.

 

One of the pluses to fancy alcohol was its tendency to not leave the drinker with an obscene hangover.

 

…That, and he really hadn’t been that drunk.

 

No, what woke him up was that for the first time in months he had actually slept as much as he needed, and he was no longer exhausted or kept awake by the stress of a self-imposed deadline. When his eyes slid open he was a little groggy, a little disoriented (okay maybe a lot disoriented), but his muscles were the pleasant kind of sore-yet-relaxed that meant he had had a most successful “assisted workout”. He stared up at his ceiling, plastered with movie posters from his own films, lying comfortably amongst the masses of pillows and blankets he liked to keep on his gigantic bed. He was completely bare, warm and cuddled in the embrace of an expensive mattress and exquisite sheets against his naked skin, drowsily recalling the previous evening while simultaneously wondering why he was so damned hungry.

 

It came back to him, then – everything did. It was a slow trickle of events, playing out in his mind like the movies he prided himself with…a steady horror of humiliation and embarrassment and fuck was Bro good at sex. Everything else he might’ve been able to cope with, but he doubted he would live down the whole passing out after fucking business. He didn’t need to inflate that asshole’s ego even further.

 

Part of him was vaguely disappointed that Bro had already left, but for the most part he had expected as much. At the very least they would continue to see each other through the process of putting the film together, so he had some opportunities to try and lure Bro back into his pants. Maybe he could even get him to stay the night next time and help out with the morning wood.

 

As he turned to check the clock on his nightstand (and maybe get out some lube and replay his memories some more) his attention was brought to a small sheet of paper with a red pen still resting beside it, and his shades neatly folded atop it. Dave wiggled his way over to the edge of the bed and replaced his shades over his eyes before picking up the note for inspection, his gaze quickly flickering over the lazy handwriting.

 

_Meet me at the park tonight. Bring your best game this time. Let’s see if you can make this hapen._

It wasn’t even signed, but it was enough to tug the corners of his lips into a slow smile.

 

Yeah, he would definitely get his chance to bang Bro again…but it was his move now, and his turn to get Bro’s shades off.

 

Dave Strider had finally found someone that liked the game his way, and he sure as hell was ready to play.


End file.
